Synthesis
by Misty Reeyus
Summary: They are not human, but in this moment, they are as close to it as they can ever get. [Devola/Popola, twincest, foreplay]


devola and popola can do totally human things like get drunk and bleed to death so ima assume they can also have & enjoy sex.

preferably with each other.

(((also, androids who totally have human emotions but who are in denial of the fact that they have human emotions. rip me.)))

* * *

Popola's gaze has had a certain edge to it ever since she downed her drink before the show, but now that their song has finished, the look she gives Devola is far sharper, far bolder than it was then. Her eyes are gleaming, aggressive, almost _hungry_ , and Devola doesn't have the chance to collect herself before Popola is on her, snatching the lute from her grasp and tugging her up onto her feet to face their audience.

The particular customer who requested their duet has long since left, ever so busy is he with his quest to gather the Sealed Verses. But the tavern's other patrons are still rousing in their applause, so Devola responds to the praise as she knows she should, taking a bow in sync with her sister. As Devola raises her head, Popola's hand delivers a squeeze to her own—and that's all the warning Devola gets before Popola _dashes_ offstage, dragging her sister along behind her.

As they exit the tavern, Devola catches a snippet of conversation between two men seated near the door, who laugh to each other, _Poor Popola's still so shy, how cute!_ Devola furrows her brow, but decides it's for the better; they don't need to know the real reason Popola's skipping out so abruptly.

She's drunk, and she's feeling feisty, and she's just experienced the rush of singing on stage for the first time in ages. Clearly, Popola is in the mood to celebrate.

In fact, she looks half-tempted to _teleport_ away with the hurry she's in, but thankfully, Popola doesn't try—they can't risk using their powers in front of the villagers. Instead, they run hand-in-hand, and Devola doesn't actually mind, because exertion makes her pulse quicken and her blood race as they whip down the road, up the stairs to the library, past the elderly man who is evidently their only visitor. They burst into Popola's office, where Devola instantly finds herself shoved up against the wall, and whatever's left of her breath is stolen away from her entirely as eager lips capture her own.

Popola's supposed to be the shy twin, but there is _nothing_ shy about her now. Her teeth scrape roughly over Devola's bottom lip; her tongue plunges in, vicious and seeking. That drink has clearly emboldened her, and Devola can still taste it in Popola's mouth: bitter, and almost meaty, and not exactly pleasant. But even the slightest tang of alcohol on her tongue is enough to have Devola going dizzy from thrill herself, and she slumps against smooth stone as she fervently kisses Popola back.

"Ah, Popola," Devola gasps in a brief moment of clarity, pulling back just a hair. "Library, remember? Lock the door first."

Not that most people would bother them in this office, but there _is_ at least one villager who has the habit of barging in unannounced. Better safe than sorry.

Popola pouts, but apparently sees the value in doing as Devola says, because she releases her and turns towards the door. Once Popola's back is turned, Devola grins and takes the opportunity to tackle her from behind, deliberately rubbing her hands all over Popola's head to muss up her straight, tidy hair. Popola yelps in surprise, and Devola hears the lock click into place right as her sister swiftly whirls back around, aqua eyes flashing as she vengefully yanks free the tie of Devola's outer tunic.

Devola bites back a laugh and goes for Popola's tunic too, pulling at strings and grabbing at fabric until it comes loose. Popola briefly wrestles with her hands but soon opts for offense instead of defense, responding in kind by fisting a hand into Devola's sleeve to try and remove it. Their battle sends them spinning through the office as a storm of entwined limbs, a whirlwind that flings garment after garment to the floor in it wake.

Finally, Devola manages to send Popola's pants tumbling down, and her giggles come pouring out as Popola nearly trips on herself trying to fumble her feet out of them. When she finally succeeds, she slips out of her heels, too, and turns on Devola with pursed lips and gleaming eyes that promise retaliation. She pounces on Devola almost zealously, practically _ripping_ her own pants off, before then toppling the both of them onto the couch.

Popola snatches her wrists, pinning them down against red plush, and Devola swallows hard in anticipation as she glances up into a sly, predatory smile. Popola assertively rolls her hips down, making Devola gasp from the sudden pressure to her thighs—but when Popola does it a second time, Devola is already arching to meet her. They fit together perfectly, like two halves of a whole, and as they settle into a steady rhythm, Devola revels in the jolts that roll down her spine, the heat racing between her legs, the sparks that burst behind her eyelids as they close shut.

They are not human, but in this moment, they are as close to it as they can ever get. They cannot feel emotion, but when they come together like this, they can be overcome with pure _sensation_. They have no souls, but they have such humanlike bodies, bodies that now seem to almost melt into each other, melding at the hips. They are unified as one, as a single being of synchronized movement, and shared pleasure, and mutual blinding _ecstasy_.

—Until fingers unexpectedly _grope_ Devola's breasts through her shirt, causing her to let out a loud yelp of surprise.

"Ah, Devola," Popola hums, tone almost _teasing_ as she slows the pace of her thrusts and presses a finger to her sister's lips. "Library, remember? Be quiet."

Devola whines but obeys immediately, bringing a hand up to her mouth to muffle her own sounds, though blocking the passage of air doesn't do her any favors in terms of catching her already labored breath. With a smirk, Popola dips down, planting her mouth on the exposed skin of Devola's collarbone, and Devola smothers a cry against her palm when teeth suddenly _bite_ down, harsh and forceful and insistent.

The spot still stings slightly when Popola eventually pulls away, but the pain is secondary to the way Devola has gone lightheaded from being marked, from being claimed as _Popola's_ , even though this is far from the first time. In the back of her mind, Devola thinks it's almost a shame that in public, the outer tunic always covers up the bruise.

Devola glances up, locking gazes with her sister, and after a tense pause, Popola suddenly _moves_ , launching her hand out to snatch up Devola's and yank it away from her mouth. Popola quickly replaces the hand with her own lips while her humping rapidly quickens in pace, Devola instinctively matching the speed as she fists her hands into Popola's hair. Popola's own gratified grunts seep into her mouth, and in the brief spaces that they break off to catch their breaths, those grunts become muttered words: "You're beautiful…You're mine…Devola…oh Devola…"

"…I love you," Popola hisses, almost thoughtlessly, during one of those spaces—and Devola should think it foolish for her to say. After all, they are no more than tools, and tools cannot love. Even though they constantly need each other, even though at times like this they _want_ each other.

Yet, in this pleasured haze, everything blends and blurs until Devola can't tell the difference anymore. Until _need_ and _want_ and _love_ are all one and the same.

"You…too, Sis," Devola replies just as thoughtlessly, just before the first dam of the day breaks and her world explodes into pure bliss. "Love you too."


End file.
